


On Regret With Jack Zimmermann

by exbex



Series: Ceci n'est pas une pipe [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Psychopathology & Sociopathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7118563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has miscalculated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Regret With Jack Zimmermann

**Author's Note:**

> Jack is still a sociopath here, and has some pretty sociopathic thoughts (or what I think are sociopathic thoughts. Regardless, they are disturbing).
> 
> The entire fic is disturbing; caveat lector.
> 
>  
> 
> Check Please! belongs to Ngozi Ukazu (thankfully).

Junior Year

As a rule, Jack tries to rid his life of anything that makes him weaker. It’s a resolve he made when he was in rehab. Jack also believes in calculated risks, another lesson learned from his time in rehab, or, perhaps more accurately, shortly before rehab. 

Eric Bittle is a bit of an enigma. He presents his strengths and weaknesses in equal measure, seemingly without being aware of it. The puzzling nature of Eric Bittle is less important than the fact that he is potentially the weakest link in the chain of the team, potentially the weak link in Jack’s plan, and either needs to be eliminated or to toughen up.

Jack understands why people are disgusted with rape, but it will achieve his purpose; Bittle will either toughen up or go away. It’s a risk; Bittle could kill himself, which would be disruptive, or he could hopefully, simply choose to not return to Samwell. Granted, he could also potentially report Jack, but Jack is fairly confident that fear and shame will work in his favor.

Honestly, Jack is doing the guy a favor. If Jack doesn’t do it, then someone else is bound to, either some Deep South yokel or some suave prick who likes twinks. If Eric lives through this, he’s bound to be toughened up.

**

Senior Year

Unfortunately, Jack has something of an addictive personality, and Eric Bittle is tougher than he appears.

Jack knows now that he’s failed to take some factors into account. He has a type: compact athletic blonds. Also, huge brown doe eyes looking up at him in terror turn out to be a turn on. Later, Jack will realize his mistake was in not admitting this to himself right away. At first, it’s a matter of ensuring and reinforcing Bittle’s silence, and then it turns into an indulgence.

(Jack will realize the price of indulgence too late).

Bittle’s reaction to finding that Jack has signed with the Falconers is equal parts gratifying and frustrating. The flash of plain fear on his face suggests that he’s not about to spill. 

Unfortunately, it also practically makes Jack hard just to see it. It would be so tempting to keep things going after graduation. But the risk is too great.

Jack will indulge one more time though, and, a little over a year later, Jack will contemplate, and he will have just a little time to wonder at the exact moment he made his biggest mistake.

It’s the day of Spring C, and Jack will kick himself later for not being able to predict it, the false sense of security he’s lured into at the sight of Bittle, drunker than Jack has ever seen him, eyes drifting halfway closed and leaning into Jack, trusting and content as Jack piggybacks him to the Haus.

A little over a year later, Jack will contemplate, and he’ll wonder just what made him let his guard down; if it was the seeming ease with which he could indulge without risk, or if it was his imagination running wild, wondering if Bittle, drunk and flirtatious, had gotten on his knees for someone else. Jealousy, he’ll think, is such a rookie mistake. (‘It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.’)

Bittle is warm at his back, and Jack’s hands are on his thighs, those short shorts leaving so much skin to touch, and the Haus is silent and empty. Jack manages to get upstairs with Bittle, and he pauses for just a moment. Turn left, and deposit Bittle in his room, or turn right, to his own?

Jack turns right.

Bittle is drunk enough that he likely won’t remember this night, and even if he does, it won’t be any worse for him than any of the previous times. Jack is certain of it. (A little over a year later, Jack will wonder if this was his miscalculation, if everything would have turned out differently if he had turned left).

Bittle is still relaxed, almost boneless, as Jack lays him on the bed. Jack idly wishes for a bit of rope, or some other bindings, considers picking out a tie (the blue one would look good against Bittle’s fair skin, setting off his golden hair) but his cock is rapidly hardening as he slides Bittle’s shirt up his chest and begins to pull the ridiculously short shorts off of his hips.

“Jack, no. Please don’t. I thought we…” Bittle bites his lower lip, as if chastising himself. Both the words and the small action cause Jack’s breath to hitch, and he pulls the shorts the rest of the way off. His fingers are shaking as he fumbles for the lube in the bedside table, and he grits his teeth. This has to be the last time.

His fingers are steady again as he opens Bittle up, as he removes his own clothes, as he takes hold of Bittle’s wrists and pins them to the mattress above his head.

“I’m going to miss you,” he murmurs into Bittle’s ear, and relishes the shudder that Bittle produces.

**

A little over a year later.

Shitty is going to make a great lawyer. Jack had successfully ignored each text message and phone call, intent on utilizing the off-season to train and strategize, thinking of ways to keep the Cup from slipping through his fingers. But Shitty’s persuasiveness is incredible; if it had been anyone else, Jack would have rolled his eyes at the trite words. (“Jack, brah, you’ve got to take a break some time. If I can put down the books you can put down the hockey stick for one evening out with the boys.”)

There’s a light rain falling most of the way to Boston. It begins to clear just as the day turns into dusk. There’s a light chill in the evening air, but it’s comfortable. Jack feels the ever-present stiffness in his shoulders begin to subside. Suddenly he’s feeling optimistic.

It’s a feeling that won’t last for long.

If Jack were paying attention, he wouldn’t have missed that there’s a different charge in the air when he walks through the door of Shitty’s apartment to find Shitty, Ransom, and Holster. He wouldn’t have missed the looks in their eyes.

He begins to realize his mistake when his eyes rest on Johnson. He blinks in surprise, searches for an easy greeting, but the realization hits him, just a beat too late.

“This is not how things were supposed to go,” Johnson tells him, all while holding his gaze steady.

No, they really weren’t, Jack thinks. He’s miscalculated. And he will pay for it; he can practically taste the certainty.


End file.
